Star Wars_ I, Jedi - Michael A. Stackpole [124]
In this case, the diffuser covered a bare patch of ground. “Let me guess: a buried door that no one has found because they didn’t want to dig through bantha dung?”
“See, it was effort like that which allowed your father to catch Booster Terrik. Not a surprise the man hated the Horns.”
“He’s got more reason now.”
My grandfather smiled. “Yes, how does he like having his daughter married to a Horn?”
I turned one spadeful of dirt, then looked at my grandfather with surprise. “You know?”
“Corran, I love you dearly and I think you will recall that we have spent many long hours discussing your love life and the disasters attendant thereunto.”
“Don’t remind me.” I growled at him. “Hey, is that just a leaning shovel, or can it dig, too?”
“It can dig. Do you want to use it? Is yours worn out?”
I arched an eyebrow at him. “You’re not going to help?”
“I did my part in burying it.” His smile slackened slightly. “Get going, it’s not that far down. Back to the point—when your garbled missives coming to me stopped mentioning romantic difficulties, I assumed you had found someone. I made inquiries.”
“And you’re not disappointed?”
“Disappointed? Why would I be?”
“She’s Booster Terrik’s daughter.”
My grandfather walked over and rested his right hand on the back of my neck. “Corran, if she was enough to win your heart and keep it, she has to be wonderful. I am happy for you, truly. Someday you will bring her here so I can meet her.”
“Sure, as soon as the murder warrants for me are lifted.”
He frowned. “Oh, yes, Gil Bastra’s work. I’ll take care of that. Perhaps that Imperial Liaison officer you had should be found guilty.”
“Loor? He’s dead.”
“So much the better.” He glanced down at the hole as my shovel hit metal. “There you go.”
I cleared the hole. “Old storm cellar?”
“It was here when I bought the house.” He crouched and helped me tug the metal door open. “It’s rather snug down there. You can go first.” He pulled a glowrod from his back pocket, flicked it on and handed it to me.
I clambered down the rusty ladder built into the side of the duracrete shaft. At the bottom the enclosure opened out into the area beneath the dung heap. The boxy room had been cleared of everything save one dusty and dirty old fiberplast trunk. It appeared to be of the sort I’d seen used a lot by smugglers—old pre-Imperial military surplus, cheap and in ready supply.
I heard my grandfather come down behind me. “This trunk, what is it?”
“When the Empire decided all Jedi must die, I made some decisions. Some, like altering files to hide your grandmother and father from Imperial hunters, were good decisions. I do not regret them in the least.”
I glanced back at him. “Were there other Corellian Jedi families you hid?”
“That’s not information you need to know, Corran. If there are any, and if they are meant to be found, they will be.” His hands rested on my shoulders. “Other decisions were risky. I chose, foolishly, to put my family and myself in jeopardy by hiding this down here. Had it been discovered I could have gotten all of us killed. By rights, I should have destroyed it—your grandmother and father thought I had because I told them I had, but I just couldn’t.”
His hands gave my shoulders a squeeze. “There, in that box, are all the things Ylenic It’kla brought back here after Nejaa’s death.”
I nodded slowly, the light bobbing up and down over the packing case’s dark bulk. “How did Nejaa die?”
“I don’t know the details. The Caamasi asked that I not inquire. What he did tell me was that a great man, a hero of the Clone Wars, selected them for a very special and honorable mission. They went with him and the three of them vanquished most deadly foes, but Nejaa was mortally wounded. All the Jedi healing techniques